


let's take that road before us (and sing a chorus or two)

by shuuuliet



Series: the most wonderful time of the year (merry psychmas) [5]
Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Christmas Caroling, F/M, Mistletoe, Shules, Ugly Sweaters, competitive jules, lassie woke up on the wrong side of the bed, pre-relationship shules, shawn and jules are babies but they already love each other, the chief puts up with so much and i love her for it, the partridge family (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28267206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuuuliet/pseuds/shuuuliet
Summary: The SBPD goes Christmas caroling to gain some goodwill in the city, but make it early pre-Shules having feelings.Set in season two, prior to the events of "Gus' Dad May Have Killed an Old Guy".Written for the "12 Days of Psychmas", Days 8, 9, and 10, (prompts: Mistletoe, Carols, and Ugly Sweaters), with a half-second reference to Day 7, "Countdown".
Relationships: Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer
Series: the most wonderful time of the year (merry psychmas) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060061
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16
Collections: 12 Days of Psychmas 2020





	let's take that road before us (and sing a chorus or two)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Psychmas again, everyone! I had to combine a number of prompts here, but I hope it came out okay! I’m very excited about the piece I have coming tomorrow for the last two prompts, so keep an eye out for that.
> 
> This is set in season two, I guess prior to the events of “Gus’ Dad May Have Killed an Old Guy”. 
> 
> As usual, I don’t own anything. Title comes from "Sleigh Ride".

“You want us to do _what_?” Lassiter stands up indignantly from the chair he’d taken in front of Chief Vick’s desk.

“Look,” the Chief says, glancing around the room to where Juliet, Buzz, Shawn, and Gus are all gathered, before looking pointedly back at Lassiter, “first of all, this order comes from higher up than me, and as interim chief, I have to accept orders like this when they come. Secondly, homicides are through the roof, and the department needs a little goodwill from this city. I’m asking you to sing a couple Christmas carols, it’s not difficult.”

“I would rather kiss an elf.”

The Chief looks alarmed. Juliet giggles. “ _That’s_ an image I would like to never visualize again,” says Shawn quietly from his position next to Gus.

“You know that’s right,” Gus mumbles in response.

The Chief glares at Lassiter. “Detective Lassiter, this is not a lot to ask. If you can solve a homicide, it shouldn’t be a lot to ask for you to sing a Christmas song.”

Lassiter shakes his head, looking bewildered. “That’s not even remotely the same skill set,” he mutters.

“Mr. Spencer,” the Chief says, curiosity getting the best of her as she notices Shawn’s uncharacteristic silence. “No objections from you?”

“Actually, Chief, I’m on board,” Shawn says. “Even though Gus and I have no need to spread goodwill, seeing as our great reputation as psychic paleo-sleuths precedes us.” He gives Gus a fist bump without breaking eye contact with the Chief.

“Excellent,” says the Chief. Then, turning back to Lassiter, who still looks ready to protest, she says, “that’s the teamwork I was hoping for.”

Shawn clears his throat, holding up one hand. “However,” he says, “I do want Cheeto power over the songs we sing.”

“Veto power?” Juliet and Gus ask simultaneously.

“That would be nice, yes,” he says, nodding. “Although in this case I was actually hoping the Chief would throw in some free Cheetos as well.”

The Chief rolls her eyes. “And why would you get veto power, Mr. Spencer?”

“Because some Christmas songs are lame,” he says, in a well-of-course sort of manner. “For example, I’m not going door-to-door singing that dumb countdown song about the Partridge Family.”

Juliet tries not to laugh. “The Twelve Days of Christmas isn’t about the Partridge Family.”

“Don’t be silly, Jules, they’re mentioned in every verse.”

Juliet laughs, but before she can respond, the Chief puts her hand up. “Enough. Mr. Spencer, _I_ get veto power, but you are welcome to make suggestions. Now, I need all of you to go get ready, and meet me at the start of the route that I’ve mapped out here,” she hands out paper maps to everyone. “Wear something festive.”

Shawn opens his mouth as the others turn to file out of the Chief’s office, but Chief Vick beats him to it. “No, Mr. Spencer, I am _not_ providing Cheetos,” she says. Shawn frowns, tsking at her as he leaves.

A half an hour later, when they go to meet up with Shawn, Gus, Buzz, and the Chief at the first house, Carlton is still grumbling. Juliet gives him a pep talk as they get out of the car. “It’s a couple of Christmas songs, Carlton,” she says. “It’ll be over soon, and then you can leave. It’s not the end of the world.”

He grumbles something unintelligible in response.

“If it helps, you can put on the Christmas sweater I brought you,” she says, holding out a bag to him.

Carlton looks at it with disdain, glancing from the bag to the sweater she’s wearing. “I would rather--.”

“You know what, don’t finish that sentence,” she says, closing the car door, and heading towards Shawn.

“Jules, what are you wearing?” Shawn asks as she approaches.

Juliet humphs, a little offended. “Shawn, it’s Christmas sweater season.”

He laughs. “That’s one heck of a Christmas sweater.”

Juliet looks down, taking in the cats on her sweater, the words “Meowy Christmas” written above them in gold script. “Shawn, the _point_ of Christmas sweaters is to be tacky. I brought one for Carlton, too, but he won’t wear it.”

They look over to Lassiter, standing a few feet away, tightening his tie and looking uncomfortable. “You don’t say,” Shawn says, laughing. “So, tell me more about this sweater, Jules. Looks homemade.”

Juliet flushes a deep crimson, matching her sweater. “If you must know, I _may_ have gone to an ugly sweater party with an ex in Miami with a contest that got a little competitive.”

“Well, at least tell me you won.”

Juliet’s eyes narrow and Shawn laughs. “You didn’t even _win_?”

“It was rigged!,” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air. “That guy that was hosting the party picked the winner before the damn thing even started. And you should have seen _her_ sweater, it didn’t take any effort at all--.”

“I can see this no longer upsets you,” Shawn says, still laughing. “Good work, Jules.”

“All I’m saying is,” she says defensively, “it’s not a fair contest when it’s called an _ugly_ sweater contest, and this girl’s sweater wasn’t even _ugly_ , she was clearly just trying to impress him--.”

Shawn pats her on the shoulder, clearly trying to keep himself from laughing again. “It’s okay, Jules. Safe to say you won the contest tonight.”

Juliet humphs again. He leans closer to her. “For what it’s worth, Jules, in general, whenever it comes down to another girl or you, the odds are stacked against her,” he says quietly, and she notices that the trace of laughter is gone from his voice this time.

She smiles, blushing again, but before she can say anything in response, he’s walked away. Shawn does that sometimes, says impossibly sweet things to her, and she never knows what to do with it. She knows that he flirts with lots of women—she’s seen that with her own eyes—but every once in a while, he’ll say something to her that feels _different_ , feels like maybe he’s not just flirting but he might actually mean something more. She feels pleasant butterflies in her stomach as she thinks about it, but she shakes her head to clear it. She knows better than to look at Shawn that way, although she has to admit it’s getting harder and harder to deny her interest in him.

She’s still staring after him, lost in thought, when the Chief pulls up, pulling little Iris from her car seat in the backseat. Balancing Iris against her hip, she reaches into the backseat again, pulling out a basket of candy canes. “O’Hara, I need you,” she calls.

Juliet is startled away from thinking about Shawn. She shakes her head as she walks to the Chief. “Yes?”

The Chief hands her the basket. “When we’ve sung our song, you hand out candy canes to whoever came to the door, and say “Merry Christmas from the SBPD”. I would ask Lassiter to do it, but knowing him, he’d weaponize the candy canes if someone doesn’t show the proper enthusiasm.”

Juliet laughs. “Sounds about right. I’ll take care of it.”

The group comes together—Juliet, Lassiter, the Chief, Shawn, Gus, Buzz, and a few other officers—and heads for the first house. Juliet takes the lead, hearing Shawn ask Gus behind her whether it sends a little bit of the wrong message, for cops to be offering free candy to strangers.

“Only if they’re kids,” Gus comments thoughtfully in response.

The caroling itself goes surprisingly smoothly. More often than not, Shawn ends up standing next to Juliet at the front of the group, bellowing each song more than really singing it, although she notices that half the time, he’s just making up his own words. Juliet looks around the group as they sing, noticing that, like Shawn, the others’ personalities are on full display—Buzz is participating in earnest, looking genuinely happy to be there, while Carlton seems to be only mouthing, or at best, mumbling the words, hanging back from everyone else. Gus stands behind Shawn, giving a modest and measured performance, although she knows his voice is probably the best of all of them. The Chief, somehow, is remaining professional through it all, despite holding her wiggling toddler daughter, and despite the fact that Shawn has insisted they sing “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” for the third house in a row.

At Shawn’s insistence, they don’t sing the Partridge Family countdown song—both because, he claims, it’s too long and because no one actually _wants_ a member of the Partridge Family for Christmas, true love aside—but the houses they visit seem genuinely delighted to hear them singing, and Juliet wonders if the Chief’s caroling plan may actually be working to spread goodwill after all. And, she notices, no one seems bothered by the notion of strangers passing out free candy to kids (although she thinks about Shawn and Gus’ conversation every time they do it), perhaps _because_ the strangers _do_ represent the police department.

They move from house to house relatively quickly—no one likes carolers that can’t take a hint, as Shawn points out—and before she knows it, they’re turning onto the last block of their planned route. She nudges Carlton on the sidewalk. “The end is in sight,” she comments, and he gives her a half smile in return. She can’t help being a little proud of him; after they initially met up, he hasn’t complained at all, and she wonders if maybe he’s secretly enjoying himself, despite still only mouthing the carols.

After the door is closed at the second-to-last house, the group turns to leave and makes its way down the steps towards the sidewalk. Juliet and Shawn, who had been in the front, closest to the door, bring up the rear. As they cross the threshold of the porch towards the porch steps behind everyone else, Shawn stops abruptly. “Hey, Jules!”

She turns back to see why he stopped. “What?”

“Look up,” he says, and just as she does, noticing the mistletoe hanging from the rafter above them, she feels his lips brush against her cheek, just for a second, nothing more.

“ _Shawn_ ,” she whispers.

But Shawn’s already darting away, the widest smile she’s ever seen on his face, bellowing as he catches up with Gus, “Christmas is my favorite holiday _ever_!”

She stands on the steps, shell-shocked, almost giddy, both at Shawn’s joy and at the feelings growing inside of her, which she’s pushed away for so long, but seem impossible to ignore now. Her hand unconsciously reaches up to touch her cheek, and she wonders when the burn of his lips will fade or if she’ll just always be able to feel the ghost of it on her cheek.

Realizing that she hasn’t moved, she hurriedly catches up with the group, who are gathering around the Chief on the sidewalk. She ends up next to Shawn again, and she’s pleased to see his face is still as red as hers feel. She wonders if he can tell that she can still feel the imprint of his lips burning on her cheek, if he knows that at this moment, she’s more tempted than she cares to admit to drag him back to the house, use the excuse of the mistletoe to relive that moment with him over and over again.

“Okay, last house,” the Chief says, huddling them all together so she can whisper as not to wake Iris, who has fallen asleep against her chest. “What should we sing? Let’s do one we haven’t done yet.”

Juliet, her mind still at the last house, with Shawn, blushes, looking at her feet, and, most importantly, _not_ at him. She’s hardly aware of her mouth opening, and certainly not aware of the words about to come out of it. But the words are coming out before she can stop them. “What if,” she asks, “we sing ‘All I want for Christmas is you’?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks very much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this! Feel free to leave any feedback you may have! Keep an eye out for my last piece of Psychmas, coming soon!


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